


It's not Kurt's fault

by caledonius72



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst and Humor, Appletini, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Leather, Light BDSM, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caledonius72/pseuds/caledonius72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kurt inadvertently stumbles upon a den of vice and iniquity, and hot mens. It's not his fault!</p>
<p>Inspired by <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/puckurt/778412.html">this pic from Rolling Stone</a> as posted for our delectation by <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://boysinperil.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://boysinperil.livejournal.com/"></a><b>boysinperil</b> .</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not Kurt's fault

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to the Puckurt community on LiveJournal.  
>  **Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Puck/Kurt, squint for Kurt/OMC  
>  **Genre:** Humor mostly, slight crack and slight angst.  
>  **Warning:** Sexual terms and hopefully wetting yourself with laughter. Some reference to, but not graphic descriptions of, BDSM terms and practices.  
>  **Spoilers:** None that I can think of, just imagine that it's at some point in S2, and the boys are a bit older than 16.  
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee, I'm just borrowing the characters from FOX and Mr Murphy. I'll put them back as I found them. Honest.  
>  Inspired by [this pic from Rolling Stone](http://community.livejournal.com/puckurt/778412.html) as posted for our delectation by [](http://boysinperil.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://boysinperil.livejournal.com/)**boysinperil**  . This is the mostly humorous, slightly cracky, slightly angsty version. ~~There's a more graphic redux being written.~~ Not beta'd but I’m anal so I'm pretty sure there aren't any howlers. I'm a Brit so some Britishisms may have crept in but I did try (I even changed the spellchecker to US English). My first Glee fic, so please be gentle with me. I've experimented with a certain format, which I think works, but any constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy, my darlings!

It's not Kurt's fault.

It's not Kurt's fault that he _finally_ got his fake ID. Don't ask how, let's just say there are ways and means at McKinley; the AV club need the money, and have access to some pretty nifty equipment.

It's not Kurt's fault that there's only _one_ goddam gay bar in Lima.

It's not Kurt's fault that he had to get out _right now_ and be amongst “his people”.

It's not Kurt's fault that he forgot to check the listings in the Lima News.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's totally rocking his preppy country club look.

It's not Kurt's fault that the bar is having it's monthly leather beerbust.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's surrounded by all these men, all these _leathermen_ , all looking at him like he's the centerpiece of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's now perched on a bar stool clutching an Appletini like it's a life-preserver.

It's not Kurt's fault that by the time he's finished his Appletini that these men aren't as scary as they first looked.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's a friendly and polite boy, and allows the men to buy him more Appletinis and talk with him.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's a little tipsy, and Sal, who's buff and hairy and wearing _very tight_ leather pants, is leaning in a little close.

It's not Kurt's fault that he kinda likes Sal leaning in all close and whispering in his ear. Kurt thinks that when Sal starts talking about watersports he's **not** talking about synchronized swimming.

It's not Kurt's fault that Sal smells really nice, kinda musky and spicy. And he's sure that he can feel a certain part of Sal's anatomy pressing against his thigh.

It's not Kurt's fault that after a few Appletinis he needs to go to the little boys room. He's not so drunk that he topples off his barstool, but he does lurch a little and grabs a hold of Sal's forearm, his hands feeling warm muscle and the cool of the leather wristlet.

It's not Kurt's fault that he chooses the end cubicle, and can hear quite clearly the noises coming from the stall next to him. And those noises cause a reaction that make it very hard for him to pee.

It's not Kurt's fault that by the time he actually calms down and pees, it's been about 15 minutes. And then he has to do a mirror check, because _please_ , he's Kurt Hummel.

It's not Kurt's fault that he feels a little flip-flop of disappointment when he sees that Sal is talking to some guy in a leather vest and lowest cut pair of leather hipster jeans he's ever seen.

It's not Kurt's fault that he nearly swallows his tongue on realizing just how damn hot that declivity above the bubble-butt looks; a little arrow pointing to the leatherclad ass. He's also impressed that he can remember the word “declivity” **and** use it in context when he's three sheets to the wind.

It's not Kurt's fault that he recognizes the guy Sal is talking to. There's only one person he knows with _those_ guns and _that_ mohawk.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's had four (or is it five? whatever) Appletinis, and he's feeling like he should try walking on the wild side.

It's not Kurt's fault that he puts a shushing finger to his lips as Sal looks up at him.

It's not Kurt's fault that he steps softly up behind Puck, cups his hand and grabs a good handful of warm leatherclad ass.

It's not Kurt's fault that Puck jumps and wheels round so fast that he knocks Kurt flat on his ass.

It's not Kurt's fault that his new friends all lend a hand to help him up, but really did they need to be so grabby? His outfit is mussed beyond repair.

It's not Kurt's fault that he just smirks when Puck growls out a “Hummel” and frowns at him. He can see that Puck's half embarrassed and half something else he can't quite work out yet.

It's not Kurt's fault that he hefts himself up onto his barstool, grabs his empty glass and waves at the  bartender, slurring “'Nother drinkie, Charlie. Kurtie's thirsty.”

It's not Kurt's fault that Puck clomps in a couple of steps and just glares at him. Kurt can't help looking down and spotting Puck's boots. He licks his lips – Wescos if he's not mistaken. (Please, just because they're a niche product doesn't mean Kurt isn't aware; he's dedicated to quality, and Wesco's are about the best biker boots you can buy).

It's not Kurt's fault that he feels a little sad when Sal moves off, clapping Puck on the shoulder and giving Kurt a wink. But it's okay, Sal gave him his number, though he's pretty sure that when Sal said he'd take him over his bike, he meant take him out on his bike. Perhaps Sal's had a few too many Appletinis as well?

It's not Kurt's fault that he crosses his legs, raises his miraculously full glass to toast Puck, and downs the drink in one. He's pretty sure there's an impressed look in Puck's eyes.

It's not Kurt's fault that he gives a little pouty huffle when Puck takes the empty glass out of his hand and asks Charlie for a glass of water. He's faintly impressed that Puck asks for Evian rather than tap.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's too far gone not to be terrified or boggling at why on earth Puck is here, in leather and obviously known to his new friends. To be honest, Kurt is kind of intrigued but the effect of six (or is it seven? whatever) Appletinis mean that his sense of self-preservation is long gone. Oh, and his inhibitions seem to have left at the same time.

It's not Kurt's fault that he kind of spaces out a little when Puck takes a long pull from his bottle of Corona. There's something mesmerizing about the way Puck's Adams apple bobs up and down.

It's not Kurt's fault that he rolls his eyes as Puck tilts his pelvis forward, one hand resting on the overlarge belt buckle (does it really say 'badass'?) and the other hand dangling with the beer bottle. Kurt's libido shouts that it's still a damn sexy pose.

It's not Kurt's fault that he can't keep his brain/mouth filter under control, and demands to know what the hell Puck is doing here. Puck mumbles something at him, so Kurt is forced to lean forward a little to hear the words “fight club”.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's leant too far and starts to topple off the stool.

It's not Kurt's fault that the cuff of his cardigan gets caught up with Puck's nipple piercing as Puck reaches out to catch him.

It's not Kurt's fault that everyone in the bar looks at the pair of them when Puck yowls like a cat stuck in a dryer.

It's not Kurt's fault that there's some finger fumbling between them until Kurt can remove his arm, and Puck isn't in danger of being left with only a right nipple. Puck's fingers are warm and rough and surprisingly long.

It's not Kurt's fault that Puck is now really pissed off. If the stupid boy had spoken clearly like a normal person then there wouldn't have been any trouble.

It's not Kurt's fault that there's an awkward pause as they stand together, looking at anyone but each other, sipping their drinks. Kurt would quite like to know what the hell is going on, but his brain seems to have gone on vacation.

It's not Kurt's fault that, in the absence of higher brain functions, he asks if Puck's nipple is still sore. He now regrets asking, as Puck gives him one of those smirks and says that no, it's feeling awesome and proceeds to show Kurt the swollen nub.

It's not Kurt's fault that he can't help himself from reaching out and touching said nipple, and is a little perturbed by the noise that Puck makes.

It's not Kurt's fault that he keeps his fingers on the piercing and looks up at Puck and asks him what did he mean by “fight club”. It turns out that when Puck's been bragging about fight club, what he really means is that he and all Kurt's new friends get together and, well, let's just call it “roughhouse”.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's a bit shocked about how freaking _fluid_ Puck's sexuality is turning out to be and his hand involuntary contracts around the nipple, his perfect manicure gripping the aureole. Puck lets out a hiss, and growls at him.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's actually finding this a bit of a turn on, but thinks it's better to play a little safe and lets go. Because as hot as it is, this is still Puck, and there's still the chance that Puck'll go medieval on his ass, and not in a “roughhousing” way.

It's not Kurt's fault that Puck now leans in a little closer and that it's not as intimidating as when Puck has him backed up against a locker. Kurt summons up his HBIC and demands that Puck explain. Kurt really really wants to know.

It's not Kurt's fault that his jaw drops when Puck explains _in graphic detail_ what's been going on. Kurt shuts his mouth pretty quick when Puck points out that someone might shove something in it if he's not careful. All the wasted time he'd been pining in his room for the unobtainable Finn, and drawing stupid love hearts, Puck had been out exploring, learning, experiencing. Kurt takes a moment to file away some of the mental pictures Puck's conjured, however he is not a little put out by this and lets Puck know.

It's not Kurt's fault that Puck hasn't backed away when he launched into his rant about Puck's total failure as a human being (or something along those lines). He just smirks with that I-know-you're-just-jealous-and-all-horny look on his face. Puck's standing right up close, like Sal. And like Sal, he smells good. And Puck's leathers are creaking quietly as he pivots a hip closer to Kurt. And Kurt's suddenly very aware of how male, and how potent, and how diabolically sexy Puck is in leather.

It's not Kurt's fault that to distract Puck, he offers to get another beer for him. There is no way in hell he's going to allow Puck to put the moves on him. Just no. Not going to happen. Kurt thinks if he tries to hint about the blackmail opportunities he now has, that might make Puck back off.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's somehow woefully inept in countering the Puckzilla. Kurt blames this on him having too many Appletinis, and Puck being smarter than he gives him credit for. His attempt at blackmail is countered by a “Dude, I'm a stud” which Kurt, unfathomably, has no answer to.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's disarmed by Puck, when he leans next to Kurt on the counter, and quietly explains the reasons behind why he's there today. It's getting louder in the bar, and Kurt turns so he's facing Puck's profile, as Puck talks to him but faces the mirror behind the bar.

It's not Kurt's fault that he sees a kind of kindred spirit in Puck. Too different for Lima, and wanting so much more, and so angry about it. Kurt kind of thinks that Puck isn't as much of a douche as he's always assumed, and thinking back, he realizes that Puck hasn't been as awful to him as he likes to think he has. He realizes they're perhaps too alike, and that might be why they've always fought.

It's not Kurt's fault that he feels a pang of tristesse as he thinks he's found a friend in Puck, because really, Puck is into leather and dudes like Sal, and those are two things that Kurt isn't. Kurt would settle for a friend who's at least bi, if not gay. He's not dared to ask where Puck sits on the Kinsey scale.

It's not Kurt's fault that his mind has finally reached the same conclusion as his body, and he _does_ want to see what Puck has to offer, and perhaps he wouldn't be averse to a little slap and tickle.

It's not Kurt's fault that _again_ Puck surprises him as he turns quickly to face Kurt, his hand reaching up and pulling Kurt close. Puck brings both their foreheads into contact, and Kurt's squinting himself silly trying read the expression in Puck's eyes. He doesn't have long to squint before he's oomphing out a breath as Puck claims his mouth. Puck is a damn good kisser, and is doing all the right things to get Kurt hot and bothered.

It's not Kurt's fault that internally he's leaping into the air and pumping a _yesss!_ fist. Puck's sucking on his tongue, and nipping at his lips. When Puck pulls away, Kurt can see his reflection in Puck's eyes and he snatches a glimpse of messed hair and beestung lips.

It's not Kurt's fault that he trips as he's hauled off the stool by Puck, and yet again lands on the floor. It's an interesting feeling when Puck rests a boot on his crotch, glares at him, and says “Ready to play _my_ way, boy?”

It's not Kurt's fault that he just goes with the flow and murmurs “Yes Sir”; the total satisfaction of seeing Puck look surprised makes it so worth it.  Puck reaches down and grabs Kurt by the shirt collar, half strangling him as the bowtie pulls tight against his throat. Oh, this is going to be _sooo_ good, but if Kurt hears any fabric tearing, then Puck is going to suffer the consequences.

It's not Kurt's fault that he gives Puck a _bring it_ look, and then bows his head. Kurt's seen enough on the internet to know how this is supposed to go, and judging by the tightness at the front of Puck's pants he's doing all the right things.

It's not Kurt's fault that he's smirking just as lewdly as Puck as he's being marched out of the bar, the guys catcalling and whooping as Puck steers him towards a beat-up motorbike.

It's not Kurt's fault that he thinks this has been the best night out he's ever had, and it isn't even over yet.

It's not Kurt's fault at all.


End file.
